


Death Is Peace

by Multikicker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: "Alive" done differently, F/F, Reminiscence, Talon Tracer, Widowtracer (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 20:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12589764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multikicker/pseuds/Multikicker
Summary: Sometimes when you're in a bad place, you need to write it all out.That being said, I wouldn't expect this to be on the level of Since I Fell or anything else I've written.As always, comments and criticisms are welcome and encouraged.'Til next time, then.Happy Hallowe'en.





	Death Is Peace

She bolted the sniper rifle with a practised ease, enjoying the metallic *click* it made when the action snapped shut. She wrapped her fingers around the grip, cold digits meeting cold metal, and smiled. Snippets of memory pushed their way to the surface of her thoughts, uncalled for. An old television and a brightly coloured movie. An old man, and a boy, and a desert. Words, most of them forgotten, but some stick out to her.  _ “An elegant weapon, from a more civilised time.” _ That was what she held, she decided. An elegant weapon. The Widow’s Kiss, they called it, as if they could determine its name. But it was hers, and she knew it needed no name, or at least none that they could give it

She is always cold, now. A pleasant change, from the raging inferno of unchecked emotions that she was before. Everything is easier to picture, to clinically scrutinise. To determine importance, and level of care to give.

She does not care about much, now. Not anymore.

In some ways it is a release. In others, a curse. The moments when it has been a curse have been recently few and far between. The only thing that really matters is the kill, the moment when she drives her round straight into the target’s heart, extinguishing their life.

She lives for that moment.

It sustains her.

She looked down the scope to the street below, watching the crowd pack itself into this hub in King’s Row. There, on the stage, was her target. Tekhartha Mondatta. The Omnic was a monk, revered and respected by thousands, hated by thousands more. None of that really mattered to her. She had orders, and intended to fulfil them. No fuss, no mess, no worries.

This kill would be no different than all the others she had performed. Flawless and clean. The only one that ever stood out was her first. She cast her thoughts back to that time, smile flourishing on her face again as she remembered.

Climbing into the bed and rolling to face the other woman that had lay there.

Smiling and bringing her hand up to stroke her face. 

Reaching behind her as the target petted her hair.

**Driving the knife deep into her chest.**

**Standing over her dying form with a cold grin, admiring the way the blood pooled on the floor.**

**Listening to the woman’s final words as she bled out on the stained sheets. “Lena…...** **_cher….íe……_ ** **”**

**Wiping the knife clean on the blanket and turning away, pausing only to let a whisper drift back. “Later, then, love.”**

**Sprinting through the night towards the extraction point.**

She dragged herself out of the fantasy, tinkering with her scope in the dull red half-light provided by the device implanted in her chest.

She lined the sights up with Mondatta’s chest and whispered her mantra, the words that sustained her, reassured her. “Death is peace.” She whispered, and fired.

* * *

 

The woman who had once been Lena Oxton grappled away into the night, leaving only a shadow behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes when you're in a bad place, you need to write it all out.
> 
> That being said, I wouldn't expect this to be on the level of Since I Fell or anything else I've written.
> 
> As always, comments and criticisms are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> 'Til next time, then.
> 
> Happy Hallowe'en.


End file.
